


(tastes) just like candy

by thunderylee



Category: Johnny's Jr., Sexy Zone, SixTONES (Band)
Genre: Bloodplay, Canon Universe, Frottage, Guro, Knifeplay, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-16 02:20:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12333519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: If he doesn’t want Kento marking up Jinguji, he’ll have to give Kento something else to feed on.





	(tastes) just like candy

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck. written for kink bingo (single line: guro, bloodplay, bites/bruises, negotiation, danger).

The young ones are so sweet. Jinguji is the one who humors him, especially now that it’s colder and the more clothes Jinguji has to wear means the more places Kento can mark him. Kento knows the little brat likes it, as much as he struggles and says that it hurts, because he keeps coming back for more.

“Are you a zombie?” Jinguji asks, and he’s serious. Kento looks down at big eyes that are not innocent at all, not after the things Kento has done to him.

Kento just smiles, tracing the bruise on Jinguji’s hip that’s a pretty swirl of green and purple. “Do I look like a zombie?”

“Well, no.” Jinguji sucks on his bottom lip and Kento twitches. “Zombies are pale.”

“Then there’s your answer.”

Kento leans down to press his lips to Jinguji’s, cursing the junior’s popularity and how he has to be on TV all the fucking time. If only there was a month of off-time, long enough for marks to heal, Kento could really enjoy him, give into his desires to gnaw on that bottom lip and sink his teeth into Jinguji’s neck.

For now all he can do is imagine it, curling up along Jinguji’s side and rocking against his hip. Grinding right against the bruise, which is why Kento had put it there to begin with. It’s the aftermath Jinguji likes the most, Kento’s learned. Touching the bruises after they’ve been made, whether fresh or in various stages of healing, like a bunch of little buttons that Kento can press to turn Jinguji on.

That’s as far as Kento goes, however, because Jinguji is barely sixteen and Kento’s not stealing his firsts. That’s not why he’s here, anyway. If he just wanted that, he could go to anyone. What he wants is to feast, and Jinguji lets him. Kento’s clothes stay on the entire time, mostly because the friction feels better when he rubs himself off against Jinguji’s bruises.

Kento’s hand drops to Jinguji’s waist, knuckles dragging along the flesh that wasn’t there before, and Kento grins into Jinguji’s throat. “You’ve been eating.”

Jinguji makes a noncommittal noise that gets cut off when Kento pinches the skin just above the hip, hard enough to make Jinguji jerk beneath him. It sends a wave of fire burning through Kento’s veins, making him push even harder, and he smiles when Jinguji cries out in pain. Normally he would be satisfied with this, but he’s too far gone, Jinguji’s fingers digging into his arm enough to return the favor.

Jinguji’s shirt is open, chest heaving as Kento drags his teeth down the sternum and past Jinguji’s ribs. He leaves little red lines in his wake that will fade before tomorrow, which is just disappointing. In another world, he could go farther, deeper, maybe cut Jinguji open and see what’s inside, but all he can do is imagine it while things like life and death exist.

He can chew on the flesh, though, taking that bit he’d just marked into his mouth like it’s a piece of meat. Technically it is, but Kento can’t tear into it like he wants to. Already Jinguji is twisting and shaking from the force, his hand shoving down his pants so fast that it couldn’t have been an active decision, and now his whimpers are mixed with moans as Kento breaks the skin and tastes the delicious tang of young blood.

Part of the appeal is holding back, the denial Kento continually imposes onto himself that both frustrates and pleases him. Disturbingly enough, it’s the only way he still feels human, since a monster wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation for just a little bit more, as long as he’s still breathing, oh it’s too late may as well finish him off. Kento could never let it get that far.

He knows his limits, sucking on the skin until Jinguji comes, leaving it nice and blue as he reluctantly pulls away. Jinguji’s a mess, sprawled out on the towels Kento had laid out on the floor with marks all over him, bites and bruises and scratches of varying colors. He could be abstract art if Kento had the chance, just a few weeks; he’s read how to make bruises heal fast. Instead he just appreciates his work, watching Jinguji catch his breath and wondering how pink his lungs are.

(“What do you think people taste like?” Kento asks casually, and Fuuma makes a face as he scrutinizes his hair in the mirror. “You know, like human meat.”

“I hear it tastes like chicken,” Hokuto volunteers, grinning up at the older boy. “But more tender.”

“You are both gross,” Kouchi informs them while Fuuma turns green.)

Kento has never had the balls to actually try. If he were more conniving, more daring, he could probably hunt down an unsuspecting stranger and…do absolutely nothing, because he’s not a murderer. The prospect of someone screaming and begging for their life does nothing for him; they have to be into it, asking him for it, getting off on it. As curious as he is, he can’t bring himself to do more than nibble on what he can get without severely harming someone.

“We need to talk,” Hokuto says on the other side of Kento’s front door, much taller than Kento remembers with more of an adult face. “Inside.”

Kento just stands aside, letting Hokuto walk into his apartment with big strides. If he didn’t know any better, he would think Hokuto was pissed, except Hokuto’s face looks oddly calm. Kento hasn’t been around him in a couple years, nothing outside of Shounen Club interactions since Sexy Zone has debuted, but he still has those soft eyes amidst his grown-up face.

“Long time, no see,” Kento says cheerfully, jogging into the kitchen to grab them something to drink. “Do you want tea or—?”

He’s cut off by Hokuto grabbing his arm, spinning him around and pinning him to the refrigerator. Hokuto doesn’t say anything, just stares at him in a way that would be menacing if Kento hadn’t known him since he was thirteen and mistaken him for a girl at first.

“I spent the entire way over here thinking about what I’m going to do,” Hokuto finally says, his voice low and even. It’s scarier than if he were yelling, Kento thinks, which is probably why he keeps getting the creepy drama roles. “I never thought…I mean, I remember, you know?”

Kento just nods, waiting for Hokuto to spit it out already. Hokuto’s still got a firm grip on him, enough that it would be a struggle for Kento to escape, but Kento doesn’t feel threatened. His heart is beating madly and his legs feel like jelly, but it’s not from fear—it’s from arousal.

“I caught Jinguji changing earlier at rehearsal,” Hokuto says quietly, looking from one of Kento’s eyes to the other. “I know he left with you the other night. I’m not stupid, Kento. You did that to him, didn’t you? You…chewed him up.”

Swallowing hard, Kento fights to maintain eye contact and just nods. “Are you mad? Do you think I’m sick?”

Hokuto just slowly shakes his head, and Kento’s heart jumps into his throat when his kitchen light reflects off of the shiny switchblade knife Hokuto holds up. “I understand you.”

Kento jerks where he stands, nearly losing his balance as reality crashes down onto him. “What?”

“I understand,” Hokuto says again, bringing the knife closer to Kento’s jaw. “The desire to mark someone, make them yours, taste their life.”

“Something like that,” Kento says, trying so hard to remain still that he shakes from the effort. “Are you gonna cut me?”

“Do you want me to cut you?” Hokuto asks, his eyes darkening. “I haven’t…I mean, I just think about it. I don’t actually do it. I’m not that brave.”

“I don’t do it, either,” Kento rushes to redeem himself, gulping at Hokuto’s knowing look. “I mean, I do a little bit. But not…what I really want to do.”

“What is that?” Hokuto asks casually, like he’s discussing work over take-out, not holding Kento at knifepoint in his own kitchen. He presses closer and raises his eyebrows as he flattens Kento to the refrigerator. “Damn, you like this.”

“Um, yes,” Kento says with an incredulous laugh. His hips give an automatic snap forward, making him choke on his next breath while Hokuto lets out a low groan. “I don’t…with him, we don’t. I won’t.”

“Oh yeah?” Hokuto asks, tracing Kento’s jaw with the flat part of the blade. He inhales sharply as Kento tilts his head back and rolls his body without moving his head. “Nice to see you have _some_ morals.”

Kento snorts at that, then freezes when Hokuto slides the blade up his chin. “He tastes so good, Hokku.”

“I understand,” Hokuto says once more, and Kento jumps as he feels the briefest prick under his chin. It doesn’t hurt, no worse than when he cuts himself shaving, but he doesn’t usually have someone flick their tongue right against it afterward, pulling a low moan from his lungs. “You taste good, too.”

“I thought—” Kento interrupts himself with a sharp intake of air as Hokuto drags his lips around the tiny puncture mark. “I thought you didn’t actually do it.”

“I do it a little bit,” Hokuto admits, his voice buzzing Kento’s throat. “Just like you do, you fucking cannibal.”

Kento gasps out a laugh, which turns into a moan when Hokuto’s knife-free hand slips under his shirt and rests on his waist. “I’ve never eaten anyone,” he breathes out.

“But you want to,” Hokuto whispers, pausing to suck on the small wound again, and Kento doesn’t refute the accusation. “I think we can work something out.”

“Oh yeah?” Kento lowers his chin now that there’s no imminent threat of stabbing, the knife sticking out to the side while Hokuto holds onto Kento’s shoulder. It occurs to him now that he’s free, no longer bound by Hokuto’s strength, but the last thing he wants to do is move.

“Yeah.” Hokuto pulls back enough to meet Kento’s eyes, and Kento inhales at how flushed Hokuto’s cheeks are. “Let me take Jinguji’s place. He’s not old enough to appreciate how you’re handling him.”

“And you’re gonna appreciate it?” Kento asks, a little skeptically. “Do you even know what you’re offering?”

“In return,” Hokuto goes on, like Kento hadn’t even spoken, “you’ll let me carve you. Not a lot, and definitely not anywhere visible.”

Kento gives Hokuto a knowing look. “You want me to stay away from Jinguji that much?”

“I think we can complement each other,” Hokuto says evasively, and Kento shivers as he feels the cool blade against his collarbone. “What do you say? I’m eighteen, you know. You can do whatever you want with me.”

Kento licks his lips, noticing Hokuto’s eyes dropping down to watch. “What kind of carving did you have in mind?”

“Shallow cuts, just enough to sting and stick around for a while,” Hokuto answers. “Maybe my initials on the inside of your thigh. What do you think about that?”

It takes all of Kento’s effort not to answer with a moan, though it’s all for nothing when Hokuto rocks their hips together and smirks. “And what do I get in return?”

“Name your terms,” Hokuto whispers, leaning forward so that his lips ghost over Kento’s. Kento wants to kiss him so badly, but he also wants to hear what Hokuto has to say. “I trust you to make sure I don’t have any lasting damage.”

Kento doesn’t realize how hard he’s gripping Hokuto’s forearms until Hokuto jerks and bites his lip, clearly forcing himself to endure the pain. “You can’t handle it,” Kento tells him. “You won’t like it.”

His next breath is stolen when Hokuto presses their mouths together, lips moving firmly against his with harsh puffs of air on his cheek. Hokuto grinds against him again and Kento can feel an erection digging into his hip, a soft moan making him gasp.

“You are completely misreading my reaction,” Hokuto mumbles against his lips, fingers twitching as they slip under Kento’s shirt and lightly trace the line of his waist. “Right now I’m trying not to throw you down onto the counter and fuck your brains out.”

Kento is so unaccustomed to physical contact that this small amount has him shuddering, rubbing against Hokuto much more desperately than he’d like. Hokuto’s words go right into his pants as well, making his grip turn sharp as his nails sink into the muscles of Hokuto’s forearms.

“Are you sure?” Kento hisses, inhaling sharply when Hokuto answers with a moan. “Once I get started I might not be able to stop.”

“Do you need a written fucking invitation?” Hokuto snaps, then pulls back with a devious grin. “Maybe you do.”

Kento’s a little confused when Hokuto’s arms are taken away from him, but he’s lifted onto his own kitchen counter and swift hands drop to unbuckle his belt. Hokuto kneels down and disappears completely, but he doesn’t go far; Kento jumps when he feels hands on his bare thighs, spreading them apart.

“I’m gonna engrave it right here,” Hokuto says, his breath hot on Kento’s sensitive skin as soft fingers trace a spot very high and inside. “So you feel it every time you dance.”

“O-okay,” Kento consents, though he’s not in his right mind to make rational decisions right now as Hokuto reaches for the knife. He braces himself for the initial slice, but he doesn’t notice anything until Hokuto’s breath chills the tiny trickle of blood. “Oh my god.”

“You okay?” Hokuto asks, more gently than Kento would ever be able to manage, and Kento just nods. “If it hurts too much, tell me.”

“I’m fine,” Kento gets out, but he chokes on his next breath when Hokuto’s tongue flicks along the line he’d made as he cuts another. It feels much different on his inner thigh than under his chin, much closer to where he’s tenting his boxers. Each lick to the cut feels like a lick to his cock, making Kento tremble and moan as he grips onto the edge of the counter with both hands. “ _Fuck_.”

Hokuto hums in response, the vibrations even more stimulating, leaving Kento to wonder if he’ll even make it to the main event. Ever since Hokuto had mentioned (threatened) sex, that’s all Kento can think about, clinging to Hokuto’s body as the younger man pounds him into the counter. Kento’s older, but Hokuto’s bigger and Kento doesn’t care _how_ they do it as long as Hokuto lives up to his end of the bargain. If he doesn’t want Kento marking up Jinguji, he’ll have to give Kento something else to feed on.

Kento’s next noise is loud and clear, with no chance of ever being subdued as Hokuto’s teeth pierce his skin. Hokuto has long, sharp canines and Kento feels every bit of them, biting him so deeply that he starts to think he’s on the other end of his own attack. But before it can sting and throb like that one time he’d experimented on his own arm, Hokuto  
blows on the area he’d decorated and stands up straight, his lips stained red and his eyes glossy as the knife clatters onto the counter behind them.

“Thought I’d see what all the fuss is about,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Doesn’t really do anything for me, but I do like the taste of your blood. If that wasn’t obvious.”

“Are you a vampire?” Kento asks, half teasing as he twists his fingers in Hokuto’s shirt.

“If I’m a vampire, then you really are a cannibal,” Hokuto says, lifting one corner of his mouth in a smirk. “What a team we make. We should fight crime.”

“We should _fuck_ ,” Kento corrects him, yanking him forward by the shirt and crashing their mouths together. Hokuto doesn’t miss a beat, swirling his tongue around Kento’s as they pull at each other’s clothes, sharing the taste of Kento’s life. Kento notices Hokuto pull something from his back pocket before dropping his pants to the floor and almost rolls his eyes, except that Hokuto’s hand wraps around his cock and Kento’s priorities shift to keeping it there.

“You like it this much?” Hokuto asks between kisses, thumbing the head to smear around the precome. “Or is this for the promise of eating me?”

Kento starts to say that he’s not going to eat anyone, damn, stop putting it like that, but then Hokuto’s touch disappears and a whine comes out instead. That bastard smiles into their kiss, but it’s not long before his hand returns, fingers slick with lube and tracing the inner muscles of Kento’s unmarked thigh. “Hokuto.”

“Yes, senpai?” Hokuto replies, and that sends a shiver down Kento’s spine because Hokuto never calls him senpai, even though he technically is. Kento squirms as Hokuto’s fingertips brush his rim for just a second, then Hokuto speaks again. “Did you want something?”

Two can play at this game, Kento thinks through the haze of his arousal as he leans forward and mouths Hokuto’s upper chest, looking for a good place for his first feast. “Yeah, I do.”

“Not too far up,” Hokuto warns, catching on immediately. “They make me wear ridiculously low-cut shirts.”

“Noted,” Kento replies, bending down enough to get a nice fleshy spot on the side of Hokuto’s right pectoral. He scrapes the skin with his teeth, lightly so Hokuto can get used to it, and Hokuto just gasps into his hair and grabs onto Kento’s thigh with his dry hand, running his thumb over the slice he’d made. It gives Kento a sharp pinch of pain, but it’s tolerable and gives him more incentive to bite harder, sucking a good-sized chunk into his mouth as Hokuto finally pushes a finger inside him and starts to stretch him open.

“Shit,” Hokuto hisses, tightening his grip on Kento’s thigh and making Kento whimper a little from the dull pressure. “It hurts, but it’s okay.”

Kento lets go enough to run his tongue over the bite marks and speak. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Hokuto pushes in another finger and curls them until Kento moans. “Do I taste good?”

“I don’t know yet,” Kento admits, tonguing a small groove where he’d almost broken the skin. “Should I find out?”

“ _Yes_.”

Kento takes a deep breath, then bites as hard as he can, pulling a yelp from Hokuto that sounds prettier than any note he’s sung. There’s a tang of blood and Kento moans, sucking and chewing as much as he comfortably can. Just like Jinguji, he can only enjoy so much without going too far, regardless of how much he desires it.

He’s so preoccupied that he doesn’t notice Hokuto’s third finger sneaking in until he starts moving them all in and out, bent enough to stroke along that spot and make Kento gnaw harder. His body is throbbing for more, but he can’t bring himself to pull his mouth away just yet, drowning in Hokuto’s sweet taste. Apparently eighteen is still young enough to be enticing.

“I wanna fuck you,” Hokuto breathes, his voice sinfully low, and Kento notices him shaking where he stands, clinging onto Kento with his free hand. “Kento, please.”

It takes a lot of willpower, but Kento relaxes his jaw and kisses Hokuto’s flesh as it’s released from his teeth, a gorgeous shade of burgundy. He admires it for a few seconds before lifting his head, watching Hokuto’s eyes darken even more as he regards Kento’s face. Kento’s taken off guard when Hokuto kisses him firmly, guiding Kento’s legs on either side of his waist and standing between them.

He expects it, but Kento still cries out when Hokuto enters him, hard and thick and nonstop. Hands rub soothingly along the backs of his thighs, Hokuto’s mouth all over his neck and throat as he groans deeply enough to vibrate Kento’s entire body. “You feel so good,” he murmurs. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Kento replies, smiling at the concern, lifting a shaky hand to threat into Hokuto’s hair. “Go easy, it’s been a while.”

Hokuto scoffs. “Yeah, I can tell.”

His first few thrusts are careful, pulling out and inching back so slowly that Kento’s nails take to Hokuto’s back, clawing with need. Hokuto hisses at the pain, but snaps his hips harder to inevitably give them both what they want. He moves faster as it gets easier, Kento’s body molding to Hokuto’s cock and writhing with each slam deep inside him.

“I wonder what it would be like if you did it for real,” Hokuto says, his breaths rushed as he leans up to speak into Kento’s ear. “Would you just tear into me and devour everything you could? Rip out my flesh and swallow it? Would you cook me or eat me raw?”

“Raw,” Kento answers immediately, his arousal soaring from the mental picture painted by Hokuto’s words. “Just a little bit, nothing horrific. Just enough to have more of you inside me.”

The groan that unearths from Hokuto’s lungs is interesting, like he really likes that idea a lot, and the next time Kento goes to open his mouth, his voice doesn’t work properly from the force of Hokuto’s thrusts. Kento’s spine arches naturally, leading him to fall back on some small appliances, but when he braces his hand behind him to push himself back up, something is in his face.

“Fucking do it,” Hokuto growls. Kento’s eyes pop open to see that it’s Hokuto’s forearm, lightly bruised by Kento’s grabbing earlier. “If it’s just a little bit, it’s okay. It’s long-sleeve season.”

“I can’t,” Kento replies, dragging his lips along the disclosed patches of skin. “My teeth aren’t sharp enough to tear through flesh. I’ve tried it on myself before.”

“You could use my knife,” Hokuto offers, followed by a sharp moan when Kento’s body tightens at that suggestion.

“No,” Kento says. “I don’t trust myself. Let it go.”

Before Hokuto can push anymore, Kento opens his mouth and bites down on the muscle right in front of him, close to the wrist, pulling a beautiful scream from Hokuto’s lungs. It melts into a breathy moan when Kento releases the skin, tonguing the indentations he’d left before sucking it into his mouth just like he’d done to the other spot on Hokuto’s chest.

“What are you gonna do if I let you go down on me?” Hokuto goes on, and god his voice is driving Kento almost as crazy as what it’s saying. “Would you try to bite my dick off? Just chew on it a lot? Swallow some blood along with my come?”

“Hokuto,” Kento gasps, his plea entirely muffled by Hokuto’s arm. He’s inwardly cringing at the graphic mental images but outwardly his body is on fire, more than approving while what little brain power he has left wants to tell Hokuto to stop talking. It’s such a drastic contrast that Kento can’t do anything but give in, his hormones clearly winning any battle right now.

Hokuto’s next noise is like a roar, likely induced by pain now that Kento’s been biting the same place for a while. Since he’s holding onto Hokuto’s elbow, his other hand is free to wrap around his cock, making him moan in a way that would be shameful if it wasn’t completely tame in comparison to everything else. Hokuto grunts and thrusts harder, pounding him into the smooth marble finish of his countertop while Kento’s bites get rougher, less careful as he gets close.

It’s not until he notices something solid in his mouth that he realizes what he’s done, but he’s already taken over by orgasm, coming so hard that it almost knocks him out. Panicking makes it even better, though he manages to shove Hokuto’s arm away from his face before he bites off anymore of Hokuto’s flesh.

Kento’s still gasping for air when he can function again, his senses heightened by what has just happened. The first thing he notices is that his mouth is empty, eyes widening in horror at actually swallowing it. It was just a little bit, barely a morsel, but it was enough to send Kento’s body into another realm of arousal, that tangy taste remaining on his tongue as he feels even closer to Hokuto than before.

Hokuto hasn’t finished yet, Kento can tell from how hard he still is inside him, but he’s stopped moving. Slowly Kento opens his eyes to find Hokuto looking down at his arm in alarm, then gapes as he sees the small hole for himself.

“I am so sorry,” Kento breathes out. “I didn’t mean—”

“Can I keep going?” Hokuto cuts him off to ask, now directing those desperate eyes to Kento. “This feels so…I just want to… _Kento_.”

“Yes, yes,” Kento says, and Hokuto moans out loud as he starts moving again. “Are you okay?”

“Right now all I want is to come,” Hokuto replies, harsh breaths forcing themselves out between his words as he grabs Kento by the backs of both thighs and fucks him into the counter. “I’m so close… _fuck_.”

Hokuto slams into him a few more times before abruptly falling still, his cock pulsing and painting Kento’s insides. He’s shuddering from where he leans over Kento, bangs damp from sweat and in his face, and Kento reaches up to push them out of his eyes, his own gaze lingering on the gaping wound on the side of Hokuto’s wrist.

“We should probably treat that,” Kento whispers, and Hokuto nods as he starts to push himself up with his other hand. His cock falls from Kento’s body and Kento feels the release go along with it, hissing when it reaches the cut on his thigh and stings like a bitch. “And me.”

“Yeah,” Hokuto says, but he doesn’t make any effort to move more than he already has. “So what do I taste like?”

Kento considers the unique flavor still in his mouth and finds the next possible thing. “Candy.”

(“There are so many new juniors,” Fuuma comments after a Shounen Club taping. “What are they feeding these kids? They all look like perfect little idols.”

Hokuto’s lingering around the dressing room, ears perking up at the topic of conversation. He subconsciously rubs the wide bracelet on his wrist as he meets Kento’s eyes.

Kento smiles. “They’re so cute I could eat them up.”)


End file.
